


i do believe his mouth is heaven

by playedwright



Series: the universe was made to be seen by our eyes [6]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Worship, Bossy Eddie Kaspbrak, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Inspired by The Martian (Weir), M/M, Making Out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Richie Tozier Cries During Sex, also after sex, alternate universe - astronauts, he's EMOTIONAL leave him alone, kind of, kind of?? ????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright
Summary: “How are you feeling?” Eddie asks.Richie looks at him like he’s an idiot. Well, he tries to. He’s certain it comes off more fondly than he means it to. “Excited for what comes next,” he says, with an immature waggle of his eyebrows. “Or should I say, who comes next.”Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes his keys out of the ignition. “You seem pretty confident I’m gonna have sex with you today."“I think I have reason to be confident."
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: the universe was made to be seen by our eyes [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565464
Comments: 19
Kudos: 441





	i do believe his mouth is heaven

**Author's Note:**

> 🎵guess who's back, back again, martian fic's back, tell a friend🎵
> 
> anyway remember how richie and eddie fell in love in space but couldn't have sex because richie had to heal? guess who is HEALED.  
> this is like 76% PWP but there are. Feelings. bc these idiots can't shut up before they touch dicks. but hey that's reddie in a nutshell, right? right?

Exactly ninety-three minutes and twenty-seven seconds after the doctor told him that he passed his physical and is, one hundred percent and definitely, in the clear to have sex, Eddie puts the car in park in front of Richie’s childhood home and turns to look at Richie with an unreadable expression. Not that Richie’s counting exactly how much time has passed since the doctor basically gave him and Eddie the all-clear to fuck.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks.

Richie looks at him like he’s an idiot. Well, he tries to. He’s certain it comes off more fondly than he means it to. “Excited for what comes next,” he says, with an immature waggle of his eyebrows. “Or should I say, _who_ comes next.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes his keys out of the ignition. “You seem pretty confident I’m gonna have sex with you today. Stay there, I’ll come help you out of the car.”

“I think I have reason to be confident,” Richie calls, before Eddie climbs out and slams his door closed. Richie waits patiently for Eddie to circle the car before coming to a stop at the passenger side door and opening. “I happen to know that it’s been at least over two years since you got any action, because it’s been that long since we were first launched into space.”

“Oh, you happen to know?” Eddie says as Richie unbuckles himself and starts to climb out of Eddie’s rental Escalade. Fucking jackass. Richie’s so goddamn in love with him. “Did you happen to know there were five other people on that ship?”

Richie holds on to Eddie’s arm once he’s out of the car, leaning heavily on him. “You rascal, you,” Richie teases. He tries not to sound out of breath as he and Eddie cross the driveway to the front door. “Was it Stan? Did you turn to my best friend for comfort during the long and lonely nights in the stars?”

“You caught me,” Eddie deadpans. “We had a torrid love affair. I’m actually planning to leave you to run away and be with him.”

“Patty will be so devastated.”

Eddie makes a face. “Yeah, I felt bad even joking about it. They’re, like, disgustingly perfect for each other, right? Like, it’s annoying?”

Richie pauses to press a hasty kiss to the side of Eddie’s head. He’s grinning when he pulls away. “God, I can’t wait for them to start saying that shit about us. We need to be worse than Stan and Patty.”

“Is it a competition?”

“Baby, of course it’s a fucking competition,” Richie tells him. When they stop at the front door so Eddie can unlock it with Richie’s keys, Richie discretely tries to take a deep breath to keep his heart from racing.

Eddie catches it anyway. “What’s wrong?”

Richie rolls his eyes. “My heart rate is a little accelerated, but it’s literally nothing.”

“Your heart rate is accelerated from the walk to your front door?” Eddie asks. “Richie, this is the kind of thing you _tell_ your physician when you’re being examined.”

“It’s not the walk, jackass, it’s you,” Richie insists. “Being all hot and caring and taking me inside my house that is blessedly empty because my parents conveniently took a trip to the beach today.”

“I still think we should have taken your cane,” Eddie sighs, as they make their way inside the house. Richie resists the urge to roll his eyes at Eddie ignoring his pointed comments _again._

“I didn’t want to take the cane,” he reminds Eddie. “And we made it back just fine.”

“You realize you’re probably going to have to use it for the rest of your life,” Eddie says. “Which is _fine._ I keep telling you. There’s nothing wrong with it, and we should have taken it with us to your physical so you wouldn’t feel so low on energy right now.”

Richie fidgets uselessly. “I’m not low on energy.”

“You still should have taken your cane,” Eddie says, glancing up at him after he shuts the door and locks it behind them.

“I thought it was, like, a good omen to not go in with it,” Richie grumbles. “That if I walked in there without the cane it would just solidify the fact that I’m getting healthy again, you know? I wanted to go in there feeling fucking healthy.”

Eddie looks over him, eyes calculating and gentle. There’s a fondness in his expression that Richie doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He hopes he never does. He hopes he feels this thrilling rush course through his body every time Eddie looks at him for the rest of his life. Eddie steps forward and Richie backs himself into the wall.

“You _are_ healthy,” Eddie tells him. He places a hand over Richie’s heart. “See? I can feel your heart beating. It’s keeping you alive.” He slides his hand to the left. “I can feel the breaths you take. It means your lungs are working.” He trails both of his hands down Richie’s sides. “I can feel your body under my hands. It means you’re here. With me. Where you belong.”

“Eddie,” Richie chokes out. He’s gonna pop a stiffy in the middle of this fucking hallway. His skin is on _fire._

Eddie cups Richie’s face in both of his hands. There’s a seriousness in his eyes that is different from the intensity they normally hold. Richie swallows thickly. “You’re healthy,” he promises.

Richie blinks around the tears that threaten to fall. “I’m healthy,” he agrees. “Because you cared about me enough to get me healthy again.”

“Because you cared about _me_ enough to try,” Eddie corrects. “Because you cared about all of us. Because there was something you wanted badly enough.”

“Yeah,” Richie says. His voice is breathy and desperate. “You, Eds. I fucking. I wanted you.”

Eddie lets go of Richie’s face so he can twine their hands together. When he tugs Richie forward, Richie follows like there’s no place he’d rather go. Hell, there _is_ no place he’d rather go. He’d follow Eddie anywhere and he knows that deep down in his atoms.

Eddie pushes the door to Richie’s room open and stops in the doorway. Richie can practically see the gears turning in his head. Anticipation coils in his gut.

“You say you want me,” Eddie tells him. He reaches up and cups the back of Richie’s neck, twining his fingers through the hair there and pulling him down. Richie closes his eyes when their foreheads touch. “You have me. So _have_ me.”

“That was such a bad line,” Richie breathes out. Eddie laughs, short and startled, and Richie grins. “Seriously. And that’s coming from _me,_ Eds. I’m so proud of you. God, I wanna jump you so bad. Holy fuck.”

Eddie laughs again. He closes the distance between them and kisses Richie. It’s lazy, at first, a familiar kiss they’ve explored a thousand times. Richie has had the thought in the past that he’d be content to kiss like this for hours. Then Eddie steps closer and their mouths slot together better. He runs his tongue along Richie’s bottom lip and sighs when Richie opens his mouth.

The kiss turns filthy, after that. Eddie kisses hard like he’s got something to prove. Like he’s searching for answers he can only unlock if he’s explored every possible crevice of Richie’s mouth. Richie grabs a fistful of Eddie’s sweater in his hands and holds on for dear life.

“We should—” Eddie gasps, breaking away long enough to get the words out. His mouth is pink and shiny and Richie gets distracted by how _wrecked_ he looks already. “We should. Bed. There’s a bed, we should. Get you in the bed.”

“I’ve been trying to get you in bed since the literal day I met you,” Richie says honestly. Eddie lets out a breathless snort and tugs Richie away from the doorway by a fistful of his t-shirt, manhandling him backwards until the back of his knees hit the mattress. When Richie goes down, Eddie follows, straddling him in one easy movement.

“Oh holy Jesus fuck,” Richie chokes out.

Hovering above him, Eddie looks at him with a pinched look of concern. He reaches forward to push Richie’s hair out of his eyes. “Are you okay?” Eddie asks.

“Am I fucking—” Richie pants. “Eddie, you’re a—Jesus _Christ,_ you’re like a sex god and we haven’t even _done_ anything yet, I’m so lightheaded, holy shit.”

“Richie!” Eddie yelps, alarmed. He shifts like he’s going to climb off. Out of instinct or maybe self-martyrdom, Richie reaches forward and grabs both of Eddie’s hips to keep him where he is. His throat goes dry when he realizes what he’s done, after a beat, when he looks down and catches sight of his hands splayed possessively against Eddie’s hips.

“From the fucking—” Richie starts. His brain is fucking _static._ He blinks. “God. From you _straddling_ me, I’m lightheaded because literally all the blood in my body is racing towards my dick right now. _Fuck._ Do you even know how hot you are?”

Eddie’s skin flushes a delightful, embarrassed pink. He’s got a shy grin on his face when he rocks forward. He brushes against Richie’s dick, which has gone from half-hard in the hallway to completely hard the second Eddie’s thighs had settled on either side of him. Richie honest to god _whimpers._ “You’re giving me a pretty good idea of how hot you think I am,” Eddie says seriously. “But really. You’re okay?”

Richie groans. “Eds, if we don’t have sex literally right this instant, I _will_ die from blue balls. Which would be really tragic considering I’m a national hero who famously survived on Mars for eighteen months.”

Eddie leans down, placing both his hands on the mattress bracketing either side of Richie’s head. Their chests are pressed flush together. He leans in, like he’s going to kiss Richie again, but stops right before their mouths meet. He murmurs, “ _International_ hero.”

“I fucking knew you liked it when people called me that,” Richie laughs, feeling victorious and punch-drunk off just the feeling of Eddie pressed against him like this. “I’m famous as shit and you _like_ that.”

Eddie gasps. His hips rut against Richie’s, almost involuntarily, and Richie lets out another whine. “I like that the whole world knows how strong you are,” Eddie grits out. He moves a hand and slides it under Richie’s shirt, brushing his fingers along the planes of Richie’s torso. “I like that the whole world knows what you can _survive._ You’re. A _hero._ ”

Richie swallows the moan that threatens to break free when Eddie’s thumb brushes against his nipple. “I didn’t do it for them,” he says weakly. His eyes fluttered closed. “Fuck, _Christ._ You know that, right? I didn’t do it for them.”

Eddie pushes Richie’s shirt up. Richie can feel him shift down and almost cries out again when Eddie starts nosing along his stomach, pressing faint kisses to the tender skin there. “You did it for me,” Eddie says giddily. Wondrously. He traces a hand down Richie’s side.

“Fucking of course I did,” Richie says honestly.

“Of course,” Eddie repeats faintly. He presses a kiss to Richie’s naval. “Richie. Baby. Look at me.”

Richie opens his eyes.

God, what a sight Eddie makes like this. His pupils are blown wide, cheeks flushed, mouth still pink and shiny and so goddamn kissable. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that knocks the wind out of Richie almost as much as the sheer amount of _want_ in the way he takes Richie in. Richie, who is sprawled across the bed, all long and awkward limbs and a body that’s still not quite back to the way it was before they went into space, covered in hair and bumps and bruises and now rounded out with fresh scars that he’ll carry for the rest of his life. And still, Eddie looks at him like there’s no one he’s ever wanted more.

“I love you,” Richie gasps out. “Holy fuck.”

Eddie grins. “Say it again.”

“Eddie—”

In one slow, agonizing movement, Eddie sits up and rocks his hips against Richie’s. Richie’s hand involuntarily slams against the mattress. He grabs a handful of sheets and yelps out.

“Say it again,” Eddie repeats.

“I fucking _love you_ ,” Richie chokes out. “I love you, I love you, I _love you,_ you’re it for me, Eddie Kaspbrak—”

Eddie leans down and kisses Richie again. It starts off dirty. It starts off with Eddie sucking Richie’s bottom lip between his teeth and stays dirty with Eddie licking his way into Richie’s mouth. Somehow, even in the midst of kissing Richie within an inch of his _life,_ Eddie twines both of their hands together and uses it as leverage to pin Richie’s arms down. Their mouths make an obscene, dirty sound when Eddie pulls away, even just far enough to growl, “I love _you._ ”

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” Richie breathes. His fingers flex against Eddie’s.

Eddie licks a stripe that starts at Richie’s collarbone and traces up his neck, along his jawline, and ends right at the corner of Richie’s mouth. Richie sucks in a sharp breath and bucks his hips uselessly up.

“Let me take care of you,” Eddie whispers. He lets go of one of Richie’s hands and reaches up to take Richie’s glasses off, gently placing them on the nightstand. When he settles back in above Richie, he presses soft, sloppy kisses along Richie’s cheekbones. “That’s all I fucking want to do, you know? Make you happy. Make you feel good. Make you say my name.”

“Eddie,” Richie says desperately. It feels like a prayer. It feels like a promise. “ _Eddie._ ”

He noses along Richie’s neck. His hand twines with Richie’s again. “Say it again.”

“Fuck, _fuck,_ ” Richie chants out. “Eds—”

Eddie’s breath hitches. He rocks his hips against Richie’s again, once, twice, and another time, and there is absolutely no mistaking the hard press of his dick against Richie’s. Richie keens and arches into it.

“Richie,” Eddie gasps.

  
“You fucking like it when I call you Eds, don’t you?” Richie breathes out. His hand spasms uselessly against Eddie’s. He’s pinned to the mattress, completely helpless and being fully taken apart despite the fact they’re both fully clothed. “I goddamn knew it.”

Eddie kisses him to shut him up. The hot slide of his mouth, the small rocking of his hips, the pressure pinning Richie’s arms above his head and into the mattress, all of it is so overwhelming and _good_ and _hot_ that Richie feels like he’s never going to breathe normal again.

If he’s being completely honest, and in the most embarrassing way possible, Richie thinks he could come just like this. He’s wanted Eddie for so long his body chemistry has rewritten itself to revolve around Eddie completely and entirely. And Eddie is so fucking _hot,_ a goddamn sex demon with a tongue that should be illegal with the way it’s definitely going to kill Richie before the end of the night, so it’s not entirely possible that this, even just rutting against each other like goddamn teenagers at the prom, will end up being the best sex of his life.

“Eds,” Richie gasps. “Fuck, I—wanna _feel_ you, please—”

Eddie sits up, letting go of Richie’s hands. He grabs a fistful of Richie’s t-shirt to tug him up a little too. It’s hot, hotter than it should be, being manhandled like this. Richie lets out a sound that is somewhere in between a moan and a cry.

“Take your shirt off,” Eddie tells him.

Richie scrambles to comply.

He gets caught in it, because he’s an _idiot_ and his brain has turned completely to mush. He can hear Eddie laughing. “Fuck _off,_ help me,” Richie whines, but there’s laughter in his voice too. He feels Eddie’s hands trace up his sides again, feels them trail along his triceps and his forearms until Eddie reaches the hem of Richie’s shirt where it’s gripped in Richie’s fist. He takes it off as gently as he’d removed Richie’s glasses.

Richie blinks. Eddie had taken his sweater off, too. His skin is expansive and smooth, pulled tight against taunt muscles. Dark hair starts at his naval and becomes obscured by Eddie’s pants. Richie’s mouth goes dry.

“I knew astronauts had to be in shape to get sent into space, but Jesus Christ,” Richie breathes. His hand twitches, desperate to reach forward and touch Eddie’s stomach and memorize the planes of his abdomen by feel alone. “This is. This is overkill.”

Eddie must have been put on this planet specifically to kill Richie and kill him dead, because when he blushes again, this time Richie learns that the flush extends past his shoulders and trails down his chest, blotchy and warm to the touch. Richie is going to fucking _die._

“How do you still have abs after two years in space?” Richie wonders. Eddie groans and shifts forward into Richie’s touch.

“Worked out,” Eddie says. “Nice thing about having a Rec Room on the _Hermes._ I’ve gotten back into jogging since we got back, too.”

“Jogging,” Richie repeats flatly. His eyes catch Eddie’s. There’s nothing but sincerity and lust in Eddie’s eyes. Dramatically, Richie groans and falls backwards on the bed, covering his face with his hand. “What’s a hottie like you doing with a schlup like me, huh?”

“Richie,” Eddie says. He tugs at Richie’s wrist but Richie doesn’t budge. “Hey. _Asshole._ Rich. Baby, look at me.”

Richie makes an unintelligible sound.

“ _Baby,_ ” Eddie says exasperatedly. “Can you please look at me so you believe me when I start to tell you how fucking sexy you are?”

Richie bites his lip. He shifts his fingers so that he can look at Eddie, just barely. “Happy?” he asks.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I could do with seeing your full face, but it’s fine,” he says easily. “I’ll just start down here.”

“Wait, wh— _fuck_ ,” Richie chokes out, when Eddie slides off of him and onto his knees on the ground. He tugs Richie forward by his shins until Richie’s crotch is perfectly level with Eddie’s face.

“Yeah,” Eddie says hotly. “I’ll start down here.”

Richie moves his hand fully so he can prop himself up and gape at Eddie. “What the fuck,” he whispers.

Eddie trails a hand down Richie’s leg, starting at the inside of his thigh and tracing a path downwards. He rubs a circle into Richie’s knee, kneads his knuckles into Richie’s calf, and in two deft movements, pulls both of Richie’s socks off. Both of his hands settle on Richie’s shins again. “You’re like eighty percent leg, do you even understand how wild that makes me?” Eddie murmurs. “When you sit down and your legs sprawl out, God, Richie… I have to stop myself from diving into your lap every time.”

“ _Eds._ ”

Eddie reaches up and pops open Richie’s fly. Richie stifles a moan. “And god, your hips,” Eddie continues. His voice is thick, and Richie realizes with a start that this is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting Richie. “You can’t dance for shit, you know that, right? But the way you move your hips… _Fuck._ Do you remember karaoke night before we left? You were dancing across the stage and I had to run off as soon as the song ended because I was so hard.”

Richie cries out. Eddie gets a good grip of Richie’s jeans and lifts upwards, encouraging Richie to raise his hips. The jeans slide off of him and get tossed somewhere in the room, hitting the ground with a satisfying sound. There’s absolutely no hiding the fact that Richie is harder than he’s ever been in his life, straining against his boxers. There’s a wet patch on the front of them that should be embarrassing.

But Eddie catches sight of it and licks his lips.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” Richie breathes out. He slams his head back into the mattress and squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed and more turned on than he can ever remember being. “Jesus. Why are you so good at this?”

“Why are you so hot?” Eddie challenges. His thumbs rub tantalizing circles into Richie’s hips, every now and then dipping closer to Richie’s dick. Richie whimpers. Eddie pulls his hands away.

“Wh—” Richie tries to say. The rest of it dies in his throat when Eddie gets up off his knees so that he’s able to press a sloppy kiss to the softness of Richie’s belly. Richie’s dick twitches painfully between them.

“You’re so broad,” Eddie goes on. His hands trail along Richie’s shoulders. “The uniform they made us wear when we were all conditioning together, do you remember that? The one you wore was so fucking tight in the shoulders it looked like you were going to rip out of it. I wanted to dig my nails into them. God, I wanted to mark up your back so fucking bad.”

Richie pants. “You were— _fucking god,_ you were so. Mean to me that day.”

“Because I was certain if I looked at you for more than two seconds, I’d have to take thirty cold showers,” Eddie admits desperately. He presses his hands against Richie’s chest. His pinky traces the scar, right under his pec. The scar trails from the right side of his ribcage, all the way to the left. A permanent reminder across his entire chest that his body went through so much only to have to go through more when he got back. 

“Don’t,” Richie croaks out. Eddie’s hands still. “The scar. It’s. Fuck, Eddie, it’s so fucking ugly, don’t.”

Eddie’s expression softens. He leans in close, close enough that Richie can see him, and there’s no question that his eyes are shiny with tears. Panic rises in Richie’s throat, but Eddie speaks before he gets the chance to. “You think it’s ugly?” Eddie asks.

“It’s a fucking scar, Eddie, and it’s huge,” Richie says incredulously.

Eddie moves his hands. “It is a scar,” he agrees. “And if you don’t want me to touch it, I won’t. Of course I won’t. But can I tell you what I see when I look at that scar?”

“Eddie,” Richie starts.

“Please, Rich?” Eddie asks. “It’s important to me that you know what it means to me.”

Richie searches Eddie’s face. He’s not sure what he’s looking for. Confirmation that Eddie’s a hundred percent serious, maybe. Any trace of a joke. Something that Richie can cling to going forward because he’s not sure how much more of this he can take.

But there’s just love. There’s no other word for it. There’s just unconditional love, and something distinctly _Eddie,_ and even goddamn _lust_ which is mind-boggling in and of itself. It’s just Eddie, who loves Richie, and that’s that.

“Okay,” Richie relents softly. He grips Eddie’s forearms. “What do you see?”

Eddie gives him a gentle smile. “I see lungs. Healthy, _good_ lungs that help you breathe and keep you breathing even when I kiss you so hard you forget how to.” Richie laughs breathlessly. Eddie’s still smiling when he continues, “I see proof that you are alive and plan to stay that way. I see a canvas that documents everything you went through and it doesn’t break my heart anymore. I see the healthy, _alive_ body of the man that I love more than anything in this world. Your scar, Richie, it’s not fucking ugly. It takes my breath away. Because this scar gave you breath back. And it’s the reason you’re still with me.”

“That’s so fucking gay,” Richie tries to say. It’s muffled by the tears that start to fall. He hiccups around a startled sob, and Eddie lets out another laugh before leaning forward and kissing Richie soundly on the lips. He kisses Richie’s tears away too. “Seriously, are you a romance writer? That was so corny. Do you moonlight as a poet?”

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs. He kisses Richie again. He probably means for it to be chaste, just another press of their mouths together, but Richie’s all tongue right from the start, licking into the seam of Eddie’s mouth and hoping that everything he doesn’t know how to say is communicated in this one kiss. Eddie groans into his mouth, and he climbs onto the bed once again, straddling Richie and pressing him into the mattress once more. Eddie’s hands come up to cradle Richie’s face, tilting him to the left so that their mouths slot together better. Richie puts his hands on Eddie’s bare waist.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Richie pants against his mouth.

Eddie sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and grins when Richie shudders. “So are you,” Eddie says.

Their hips are rocking together, barely conscious movements, both desperate and chasing any form of friction they can find. Eddie is still wearing jeans and his underwear, but every brush of his dick against Richie’s feels electric.

Richie slides his hands along Eddie’s back as Eddie’s tongue lavishes his mouth. He hesitates, for a moment, when his hands brush against the top of Eddie’s pants. But Eddie sucks on his tongue in a particularly dirty move, and where Richie’s brain isn’t complete static, he thinks, _fuck it all._

His hands dip lower, until he’s got his hands full of Eddie’s ass, taunt muscle that flexes underneath his palms when Eddie rocks forward, gasping out Richie’s name. He’s got control here that he hasn’t had since Eddie manhandled him onto this bed. He’s drunk on it, drunk on the fact that he’s the reason Eddie is making wrecked, needy noises against the base of his throat, drunk on the way that Eddie’s hands are flexing helplessly against Richie’s shoulders, drunk on _Eddie,_ always. The way he talks, the way he kisses, the way he feels. Richie lets out a low whine and ruts his hips up against Eddie’s, dragging their dicks together even through layers of fabric. The punched out noise Eddie makes goes straight to his dick.

“Think you can,” Richie pants out, “come just—come just like this?”

Eddie’s hips stutter. “I could,” he gasps. “Fuck. That’s _hot._ I could. But—god. _Damnit._ I’m. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

Richie lets out a startled, disbelieving laugh. He bucks his hips up and they both groan at the contact. “Baby, if you think you aren’t taking care of me right now, you have no fucking clue how much of a sex god you are.”

“Our pants aren’t even off,” Eddie snaps.

“So take them off.”

Eddie kisses him messily. It’s sloppy and wet and Richie thinks it barely classifies as a kiss but even still his toes are curling. Then Eddie’s hands slide under his hips and urge him upwards again, and he pulls Richie’s underwear down and off in one fluid movement.

“Oh my god,” they say in unison. Richie throws his head back and laughs.

“Richie,” Eddie says fervently. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. He bucks his hips up again and whimpers when Eddie honest to god _licks his lips again._ “Eds, holy _fuck,_ you’re gonna kill me.”

Eddie’s eyes snap to his. “I can’t wait to blow you so hard you forget your own name,” he says earnestly. Richie’s dick twitches in between them and Richie lets out a breathy moan. “I’m gonna suck your brains out one day. Holy shit, Richie, you’re perfect, you’re goddamn perfect.”

“Eds,” Richie pants. “Eds, Eddie, baby, Eds.”

“God,” Eddie chokes out. He climbs off the bed and pulls his pants and underwear down at once, so quickly that Richie barely has a second to gawk at Eddie’s dick when it’s free of Eddie’s briefs before Eddie climbs back on top of him and crushes their mouths together. Richie cries out again when their dicks brush, no layers between them. “Fuck, _fuck._ Give me your hand.”

Richie complies without even thinking about it.

Without breaking eye contact, Eddie wraps his fingers around Richie’s wrist and raises his hand until it’s parallel to his face. Richie watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Then he brings Richie’s hand forward and sucks Richie’s fingers into his mouth.

“Oh, holy fuck!” Richie shouts. He keens off the bed, desperate for anything, nothing in his head except for the desperate thought of _more, more, more,_ as Eddie’s tongue splits his fingers apart and coats them with his saliva. He’s thorough, taking his time with each finger and lavishing his tongue along the lengths of it.

Tears stream down Richie’s face, he’s unable to stop them, and he chokes out, “Eddie, _Eddie,_ fuck, baby, your mouth—you. God, you, this is _filthy,_ your mouth should be _illegal,_ oh my god—”

Eddie pulls Richie’s fingers out slowly, obscenely, and the noise that comes of it sends all of the blood in Richie’s head racing down towards his dick. But Eddie isn’t done. He brings Richie’s hand back towards his face and licks his palm, small, flicking licks that have Richie writhing underneath him.

“Your fucking hands,” Eddie mutters. “I didn’t even get to talk about what your fucking hands do to me.”

“Eddie,” Richie gasps out. “Holy fuck, I’m gonna come like this—”

“No,” Eddie says sharply. His gaze locks with Richie’s again. “You’re gonna come with your hand wrapped around both of us.”

Richie’s thoughts white out.

“Sorry,” he says slowly. “I think I just died for a minute. _What_ did you say?”

Eddie _grins._

And spits right into Richie’s hand.

“Touch me,” Eddie says. His voice is rough and fucked and Richie is so in love with him and so turned on he’s going to die, he’s going to _die_ before he even gets his hand on Eddie’s dick and—

“Holy fucking Christ,” Richie chokes out, as Eddie lines them up and wraps Richie’s hand around them both. “Oh my god, _oh my god,_ Eddie, Eds—”

“Fuck, _Richie,_ ” Eddie gasps. His forehead drops against Richie’s and his eyes squeeze shut. “Richie.”

Richie thrusts forward, into the heat of his hand, against Eddie’s dick, and something in his chest expands when they both cry out in pleasure. He does it again, and again, as much as he can even from how he’s pinned into the mattress underneath Eddie. It’s strangely thrilling, to be underneath someone like this. Richie’s obsessed with it. He’s obsessed with the electric shock of Eddie’s hard cock dragging against his own. He’s obsessed with the way Eddie’s hips move when he starts to fuck into Richie’s hand in earnest himself. Eddie makes these breathy, needy sounds, so desperately that Richie is going to hear them echoing for the rest of his life.

“So hot,” he chokes out. “Eds, Eds, you’re so. _Fuck._ Don’t stop, _fuck_ —”

Eddie whimpers and ducks his head into Richie’s neck. He kisses there desperately and his hips stutter. Richie bucks upward. He feels like he’s on fire, he feels like he’s twenty years old, he feels like this is the happiest and the horniest he’s ever been, and he’s _certain_ that sex has never felt like this before. He’s never felt a rush like this, a pang in his heart and pressure behind his eyes where tears are threatening to fall again. He’s never felt loved like this. Never worshipped like this. Never been so certain that if he doesn’t come in the next minute, his heart is going to give out.

“Richie, Richie,” Eddie chants. He nips a spot on Richie’s neck and smooths it with his tongue. Richie whimpers and fucks faster into his hand. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. Like that.”

“I love you,” Richie gasps. Eddie wipes another tear away. “I love you, I _love you_ , Eddie—”

Eddie reaches down and wraps his own hand around where Richie’s hand doesn’t cover. Richie cries out again. “Come on, Rich,” Eddie murmurs. His voice is wrecked and shaky, too. “Come on, sweetheart. Come for me.”

Richie chokes back another sob. Eddie tightens his grip a little, right at the base of Richie’s cock, and fucks against him again and again. Heat pools in Richie’s stomach, heat races through his entire body, every part of him is electric and lit up and _neon_ and Richie grabs uselessly at Eddie’s shoulder. “Eds.”

“Yeah,” Eddie pants. “Yeah, Richie, just like that.”

“I’m gonna—”

Eddie noses Richie’s jawline to get him to tilt his face up so he can kiss Richie. It’s mostly just their open, gasping mouths pressed against one another, neither of them particularly coherent enough for anything more than the press of lips against lips. “Come for me,” Eddie says again, against his mouth, and Richie comes with a shout and a shudder so strong his vision starts to white out.

He’s floating, untouchable, riding the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm of his life, and it takes a minute or an hour or a year for him to feel like he’s come back down into his own body. Distantly, he can hear Eddie’s frantic and breathy moans as he fucks himself into Richie’s hand, chasing his own orgasm. Richie lifts his head and catches sight of Eddie, beautiful and sexy and better than every goddamn star in the sky, and something in his chest swells. This is what they write about, when they talk about cosmic love. Star-crossed lovers. Richie could come up with a thousand space metaphors and he could beat them to death but the truth of the matter is that the way he feels for Eddie is greater than what can be contained in this universe and Richie wants to give him _everything._

He flexes his hand, tightening the circle around Eddie’s cock, and his heart nearly beats right out of his chest when Eddie cries out.

“You’re so beautiful,” Richie chants. He’s not sure how he even finds the words. “Eddie, baby, _Eds,_ you’re so fucking. You’re the love of my life, you know that? You’re so good. You’re so good, baby, look at the way you fuck into my hand.”

“Christ,” Eddie gasps out.

“You’d fuck me so good, you’re gonna fuck me like this one day,” Richie continues. He’s babbling, words pouring out of him, a fountain he’s not sure will ever turn off. Eddie’s hips stutter. “Yeah, baby, _yeah._ Like that. Are you close?”

“Richie,” Eddie whines.

Richie flexes his hand again. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. “You can. You took good care of me, you took such good care of me, it’s your turn.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Richie reaches up and tugs Eddie down towards him by the nape of his neck. His fingers curl into Eddie’s hair. He kisses Eddie softly, at first, reassuring, but with the next roll of Eddie’s hips he licks into Eddie’s mouth and sucks on his tongue. Eddie’s moan reverberates against Richie’s mouth.

Eddie comes with a shout, his body trembling against Richie’s as he spills into Richie’s hand. It’s hot in a way Richie’s never experienced. He’s still trembling when he collapses against Richie’s chest.

“Richie,” he breathes out. Richie combs his fingers through Eddie’s hair.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees.

Eddie laughs breathlessly. “How are you,” he tries to say. His hand waves lazily in the air before he drops it again and twines his fingers with Richie’s one more time. “Cohesive?”

"Coherent?" Richie corrects, voice gentle and raw.

Eddie makes an affirmative sound.

“Dunno,” Richie answers honestly. “Think you fucked my brains out.”

Eddie hums. “There’s a joke there,” he says tiredly, “‘bout how there weren’t much brains in the first place.”

The laugh that bursts out of Richie feels bright and warm. “Excuse me, motherfucker, I have a PhD _and_ a Masters.”

“Guh,” Eddie says. He buries his face in Richie’s neck and inhales deeply.

Richie’s heart swells. He looks up at the ceiling and blinks to try and keep himself from crying again. “I love you, you know?” he says. “So goddamn much. I meant what I said. You’re the love of my life.”

He can feel it when Eddie smiles. “S’nice,” Eddie murmurs.

“Jesus, am I that good of a lay?” Richie asks. “You still don’t have your words back?”

“Shuddup,” Eddie says sleepily. “Love you.”

Richie presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Love you most. Are you gonna fall asleep or do you want me to clean us up?”

Eddie hums.

“Okay, goodnight,” Richie says decisively. Eddie pinches his side. “Oh, so you can’t talk, but you can still pinch me? Fuck you.”

“You did,” Eddie says smugly.

Richie’s dick twitches in interest between them.

“Down, boy,” Eddie laughs.

“You’re such a dork,” Richie breathes. He runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair again. “How’d I get so goddamn lucky?”

Eddie shrugs and makes an indecisive noise in response.

Richie’s grinning when he finally peels Eddie off of him and stands to get a rag to wipe them down. He’s still grinning when he comes back, and even still once they’re clean and curled in bed together and Eddie tucks his head back against Richie’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Eddie says, when he’s finally found his words. Richie hums in response, half-asleep. “You know you’re the love of my life, too. Always and forever.”

“Sappy shit,” Richie says fondly.

Eddie shrugs. “You started it.”

Richie kisses him again, just to prove he means it. In case there was ever any doubt.

**Author's Note:**

> captain's log:  
> it's been literally one week since i ended the sequel and already i'm like i miss them. i miss them so much. good news i hope?  
> been up to pretty much the same old same old. work, schoolwork, dicking around on twitter, watching scary movies, etc etc. i have an exam tomorrow that i Should be studying for probably but here we are!! it's clearly more important that richie and eddie bang.  
> ANYWAY. i hope you are all safe and healthy. i hope you're staying entertained during these times. i hope you enjoyed this and that i didn't totally butcher their first time.
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](https://rchtoziers.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/SPACERICHlE) if you want to come say hello!


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